


Sacred Ground

by Spyridon



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-23
Updated: 2006-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-02 18:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spyridon/pseuds/Spyridon
Summary: There isn't any Wall, no Arlington Cemetary to portray the ground where they have fallen.





	Sacred Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

"We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . . we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. 

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . . that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . . and that government of the people. . .by the people. . .for the people. . . shall not perish from the earth." Abraham Lincoln, Gettysburg Address.

+> +> +> +> +>

Sacred Ground

Come and walk with me for I will show you what I have seen. 

The warriors of the mountain, men and women, civilian and military, walk the halls of the hidden base. The silent ring standing proud and tall in the guarded room, the doorway to battlefields of the stars. Through this ancient device, lay unseen battlefields, horrific and grim, too boggling for the unwary citizen. 

Yet the warriors travel from their homes into these same raging battlefields, wary and alert, weapons at their sides. The mighty clash between man and Jaffa, dark green against bright silver; the cries of the dying, the silence of the dead, the wailing of the grieving. Sounds of the discharging weapons, the crack of the hits, and the thumps of the fallen. 

Iwo Jima, the Battle of the Bulge, Vietnam, D-Day; all have places where loved ones place red roses, velvet soft teddy bears, white letters underneath heavy weights. But these far battlefields have no place for remembrance. No marble wall, no bronze monument, no towering statue, no polished stone. Nothing except for the standing silent ring and the bustling base in which it stands. There is no sacred ground in which to honor those dead warriors, no land to consecrate, no place to stand and watch as time hide the fields of a raging war. 

Maybe that is excusable for maybe, just maybe, those same warriors who have fallen still walk through the grey halls of the hidden base; in the people who continue to fight. Watching the living go through their daily lives from their places in another world. No sacred ground is needed for the fallen have returned home, back onto the land they have died protecting. The hidden base is the sacred ground, the land which the warriors guard; those who live, those who die, those who have, those who will. A place where time moves forward and yet stands still, the ghosts wandering from room to lab to office. An earthly presence created from many in a time of grief, suffering, and pain, joined in a single cause. 

The battlefields ever changing, the ground shifting, the enemy changing. A place where the foreign suns and unknown winds blow upon. The place where blood was spilled, where the dead warriors fell in their dying throes; but that is for the critics. One may think sacred grounds are marked by lush rolling fields, marble graves, bronze statues that gleam in the light. But in fact, their sacred ground is a military base with grey walls, made of concrete and still, hidden from the rest of the world; an unrecognized place or grievance, remembrance, and honor for the fallen.

Come and walk with me, for I will let you see what others have not seen. The sacred ground hidden from prying eyes, where warriors walk upon as they enter the battlefields through the dark grey ring standing proud in the guarded room. Seen by the ghosts of their peers and fallen friends.


End file.
